LIBRA.' OF CONGRESS. 

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UNITED STATES OP AMERICA. 



JESUS, 
LOVER OF MY SOUL. 

CHARLES WESLEY. 

DESIGNS BY ROBERT LEWIS. 
ENGRAVED BY WM. J. DANA. 



He also will be a refuge. . . .in times of trouble. — Ps. 9:9. ^^ 



BOSTON: 
D. LOTHROP & CO. 






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COPYRIGHT, 

D. LOTHROP & CO., 

1878. 



C. A. HACK AND SON, PRINTERS, 
TAUNTON, MASS. 



PREFACE. 



Eminent among godly women was Susannah, the 
mother of John and Charles Wesley. Each of her 
celebrated sons inherited from her his characteristic 
gifts. She gave to John the judgment, energy and 
will which made him the great commander ; to 
Charles, the feminine tenderness and fervid feeling 
which made him the sweet psalmist. The most 
obvious fact in her life was her rare devotion to her 
children. They repaid her with deep filial tenderness. 

Charles was her youngest son. The others kissed 
their mother, but Charles clave unto her. Had his 
affection for her been less, or had she less deserved 
it, the hymn reprinted in this little book could not 
have been written. It w^as possible because its 
author saw interpreted in his mother the care of 
Christ, and had eyes to read the interpretation. 

It may be that the sight of a dove pursued by a 
hawk suggested the opening lines. But the origin of 
the hymn is deeper. Its germ was planted in the 
cradle ; its roots grew through childhood ] they were 



PREFACE. 

watered by dear hands that helped and fond lips that 
prayed, until when the man had come to see in his 
Saviour " more than all " the child had experienced 
in his mother, they bore these leaves of healing and 
fruit of life. This was the soil which gave the hymn 
its preciousness to all God's children, and made it 
what Dr. Cuyler has truthfully named it, the dearest 
" heart hymn in the English tongue." We love it be- 
cause it helps us turn to God in our tribulations as 
we ran to our mothers when we thought they were 
omnipotent. 

When Mrs. Wesley lay dying she said, " My chil- 
dren, as soon as my spirit is released, sing a song of 
praise to God." It was possible for her children to 
obey her wish, because Charles had already taught 
them to hear the heart that seemed quieted forever 
still beating in the bosom of Christ. He has taught 
us to do the same. And therefore — in spite of a 
sadness such as might seem ill-befitting the most 
radiant period of the year — I think this hymn appro- 
priate for Christmas. For this is the season when 
most the hearts of the fathers are turned toward the 
children and the children towards the fathers and 
family affection is felt to be the only true interpreter 
of the heart of Christ. 

It is pleasant to remember how others have been 



PREFACE. 

sustained by the words we love so well. The illus- 
trations help us here. Two of them are simply re- 
cords of facts. One shows us the mother with her 
child found floating on some fragment of wreck in 
the English channel by rescuing sailors who paused 
wdth balanced oar to listen as she sang unconscious 
of their approach : 

"Jesus, lover of my soul, 
Let me to thy bosom fly." 

Another tells of the New England drummer found 
dead in the morning between the union and the rebel 
battle lines — in the place whence through the night 
the soldiers of both armies had heard the same sweet 
song coming to their ears out of the darkness. 

Between the merry sparrows twittering amid spring 
grasses and the woman kneeling in the winter of her 
sins are all experiences through which men pass from 
happiness to agony, from innocence to guilt. But 
he who watches the sparrows himself unseen, stands 
visible beside the weeping outcast, and teaches her 
who has lost all to find in him " more than all.'' 

However deep may be our sorrows, however black 
our sins, may this hymn help us to see Christ still 
beside us and to find in him grace, mercy and peace. 

William Burnett Wright. 



jESUS, lover of my soul, 
Let me to thy bosom fly, 

While the nearer waters roll, 
i While the tempest still is high; 

Hide me, oh, my Saviour, hide, 
Till the storm of life is past ; 



Safe into the haven guide. 
Oh, receive my soul at last 




have I none, 
Hangs my helpless 
on thee ; 
Leave, oh, leave me not alone, 

Still support and comfort me : 
All my trust on thee is stayed, 

All my help from thee I bring; 
Cover my defenseless head 
With the shadow of thy wing. 



.# 




Heal the sick, and lead the blind 
Just and holy is thy name, 

I am all unrighteousness; 
Vile and full of sin I am, 

Thou art full of truth and grace 



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LENTEOUS 

grace with thee is 
found, 
Grace to cover all my sin: 
'^ Let the healing streams 
abound ; 
Make me, keep me, pure within. 
Thou of life the fountain art, 
Freely let me take of thee : 
Spring thou up within my heart 
Rise to all eternity! 



